


Care To Dance?

by EarthAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthAngel/pseuds/EarthAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night chat Dean has with a sympathetic bar tender sees him confront his feelings for a certain Angel! A little gentle schmooz to warm your heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is it so obvious?

**Care to Dance?**

 

Chapter one - Is it so obvious?

 

“So, Dean, are you ever going to get round to telling him that you’re in love with him?”

The question came out of nowhere and was just about as personal as she could get and it floored him. For all his cocky bravado and innuendo-rife flirting that one sentence rocked him back on his heels and rendered him speechless. But despite the unanticipated directness the bartender’s voice was warm with acceptance, her eyes soft and kind and she held Dean’s hesitant, almost shy gaze with a tolerance that stopped the knee-jerk denial on his lips.

He picked up his near empty beer glass, draining it dry, stalling for time as he weighed up whether he could trust this woman. He hardly knew her but even so there was something about her that, over the few days they had been coming into the bar, he had come to like, to like a lot, but was it enough to overcome his ingrained reticence to talk about his feelings?

He shrugged mentally. What the hell, even after this short time he felt more comfortable with her than he did with most people and well, he sure needed someone to talk to about how he felt and this once, that someone just couldn’t be Sam.

He looked down at his empty glass, biting absently on his bruised lip. Was he drunk enough, stupid enough, hell desperate enough, to do this though?

Heavy footed butterflies wearing steel toe-capped boots stomped about in his empty belly warning him to caution about opening this ‘Pandora’s box’ of emotion but damn if he wasn’t gonna exploded if he didn’t unload how he felt to someone, soon.

She waited silently, observing his inner turmoil, her dark eyes willing him to trust her and all the while seeing how badly he really wanted to talk but understanding that it was close to impossible for him so to do. She wondered what his life had been to make him so desperately guarded and longed for him to be able to revel, if only for a moment, in the joy that she was sure was being repressed within him.

Her patience was rewarded by his soft sigh and he slowly raised his head to meet her eyes. He was pale, tired looking and the fresh purple bruising on his handsome face was obvious against his pallor. She was struck by how, suddenly, he appeared much younger than he had before and she realized, like this, he looked as young as he really was, not as old as his hard, troubled world had left him. He had dropped his defensive facade and she knew that was something this man rarely felt comfortable to do.

“Is it so...obvious?”

His quiet voice rose on the ‘obvious’ betraying his surprise that he had been rumbled, and he fidgeted nervously, his deep green eyes wide with a mixture of relief and panic that he had finally voiced his unspoken and very secret passion. He glanced around the bar urgently, checking self-consciously that they were indeed alone. Across from him she watched as his wide, scared eyes scanned the room, saddened by his obvious discomfort, and concern.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s late. Everyone’s gone home, so no-one can hear us. It’s just me and you.”

His vulnerability was as evident as the freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose and as disarming. She brushed his hand with hers where it rested on the table top between them, careful of the bandage there and he smiled just a little as she continued.

“Maybe it’s only obvious if you do a job like I do.”

Dean’s eyes quirked in question and she explained.

“When you work bar for as long as I have you get to understand people. Hear what people are saying about each other...”

Dean interrupted, startled.

“I’ve never said I...that I...love him...”

He stuttered over the word and she knew love was something he very, very rarely declared overtly, however much his generous heart might feel it.

“I...I’m always careful what I say.”

She nodded, knowing this man had spent a lifetime being careful of others feelings, too careful, she suspected, so that his own heart had been trodden into the dirt many times over.

“I know. You’ve never said a word, well not out loud anyway.”

“Then...how?”

Confusion crossed his face again.

“Oh, Dean...”

She smiled, resting her elbows on the table and leaning in toward him.

“It’s not just the words you say, it’s what you don’t say as-well and hunny you’re virtually shoutin it.”

His lips parted as if he was gonna speak but he stopped, shaking his head as if he didn’t follow or maybe, didn’t dare admit he did. She continued, her words softened by the pleasure she took in his albeit fettered passion.

“When he comes into the room, your gaze is instantly drawn to him, like he’s the only thing that matters in your world. Your pretty green eyes widen and dilate with the need you have for him. Sometimes I hear you gasp, your chest tight with just the sight of him and I see the breath catch in your throat. When he moves about the bar your eyes follow him unwilling to miss a moment that you might have him in your sight. I see you try to make your glances subtle, to steal them quickly so that no one will notice unless they were watching you but other times...Oh Dean, other times the look you give him is so damn wanton that it makes me blush just imagining what you want to do to him.”

She paused and wasn’t surprised to see a horrified and guilty blush colouring his cheeks.

“Really? You get all that...from me just seeing him?”

His voice was an embarrassed whisper and she nodded, ever more touched by his vulnerability.

“Hell, yeah. And that’s nothing compared to when he sit’s beside you...”

He raised his hand shakily to his face, unable to speak buy his eyes bade her continue.

“After you have gotten over your ‘whatever-you-do-don’t-touch-him’ terror, I see you lean fractionally toward him, hopeful that he’ll maybe brush against you or you’ll feel the warmth of his body heating your blood. And you blush, Dean Winchester...you blush like a teenager on a first date.”

She stopped giving him a moment to compose himself, realizing her observations had utterly ruined his well-practiced pretense of indifference.

“Damn!”

He cuss was soft and without anger, more a sigh of acceptance and he scrubbed tiredly at his eyes before looking back into hers.

“I really thought I had it in check.”

He laughed self-consciously, resigned but disappointed by his own clumsiness.

“Thought I had my game face on so tight that he...that no one, would ever see.”

She reached again for his hand, wrapping it this time in hers.

“You have got your game face on, Dean. The problem is that it’s on so tight that you’re gonna miss something that I think might be wonderful.”

She expected him to pull his hand away but he didn’t and they sat for a few seconds in thoughtful silence before he spoke again.

“Do you think...”

The words choked in his throat, the blush creeping further up his neck and he cast his eyes down to the table top, shaking his head slowly.

“Do I think...that he knows how you feel about him?”

She completed his hesitant question and his head raised but his frightened eyes resisted meeting hers whilst against her hand she could feel his tremble.

“Well, of course there’s really only one way to get an answer to that...”

Terrified green eyes glanced to hers.

“Don’t tell me to ask him. I...I just...I couldn’t. I can’t.”

A lifetime of self-doubt screamed from his tightly drawn lips. She wanted to grab him and say ‘Just go ask!’ but knew it wouldn’t help.

“I know you can’t. I really wish you could. But you should know I see him make the same little glances toward you, see him smile like you do when you secretly brush against each other. He comes alive when you come into the room, Dean. In fact the only time he looks truly happy is when he’s with you.”

The smile that suddenly lit up his face was beautiful in it’s uncontrived joy and she felt his hand squeeze hers warmly and she thought for a moment she had convinced him, but it was fleeting. Before her eyes the smile faded to be replaced by a sudden look of loss and resignation.

“What is it? What did I say?”

She wanted to know what she had said that had crushed him, what was breaking his heart.

“I...it’s not your fault. I...It...it can never be, that’s all. I can’t explain so don’t ask me please. It...We...just can never be.”

The words were hard, crushingly final and his eyes brimmed with barely held tears. She didn’t understand but she could see he utterly believed that to be the reality of his world and it broke her heart.

“Bur, Dean...”

He looked down, away from her concerned face, swallowing hard, shaking his head miserably.

“Is it because he’s a man? You think...”

“No!”

He answer was swift, emphatic and unequivocal.

“No, that doesn’t matter at all. It’s not important to me. If I thought he would...could...be with me...”

His voice trailed away, it’s usual power lost and he pulled his hand from hers, brushing in embarrassment at the tear tracking down his cheek.

“Then what? I don’t understand, Dean.”

He sighed, running his hands desperately through his short, spiky hair, looking for words to try and make her see what he saw.

“I don’t know how to explain it to you. It’s just...we are so damn different...He and I...”

He blinked quickly at the moisture there, fighting for control. She gripped his hand tighter.

“Opposites attract sometimes, Dean.”

He shook his head again.

“It’s not even just that...”

Misery dripped from his words partnering the tears dripping from his chin.

“See...I...I’m not good enough...Not for him. Just...not good enough...Never will be.”

He stopped, unable to keep the tremor from his voice or the tears from falling and she felt her heart breaking along with his. She spoke softly but forcefully to him.

“Don’t say that. I don’t believe it and I sure as hell don’t believe he feels like that.”

He wiped his hand down his face, dragging the salty drops from his pale skin, grateful for her words of allegiance but unconvinced by them.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew me, knew what I’ve done. I’ve done things...terrible things...I don’t think anyone could ever love me...maybe no one should ever love me.”

It was such a final, sorrowful statement. Not the words of someone seeking for pity just the logical belief of a man fatally worn down with his own unbearable burdens.

She wanted, so very much, to comfort him but knew he was not good at being cared for. He would spend his last piece of energy looking after others but could not easily accept their concern back.

She watched him gather his emotions, tuck them away again behind his crumbing but structured walls and knew the conversation was at an end. She longed to do more, to heal him somehow, have him believe in his own self worth or at least give him some semblance of peace but she knew that tonight all he would allow was this and that she had been privileged to see this much of this brittle, damaged but wonderful man.

“Well at least let me get you another drink.”

Her voice prickled with her own tears but she knew she had to go with his lead and pretend everything was okay, fine, normal. Not that she thought he remembered what normal really was anymore. Maybe he never had known to start with.

She nodded to the table top and his eyes followed hers to his empty beer glass. His heart was a cold stone in his chest and he felt sick to his stomach. The thought of alcohol made him nauseous and it showed on his face. He shook his head, shivering, suddenly frozen to his core, though the bar was still warm.

She saw him tremble and though she could do nothing to mend his heart, she could at least address his chills.

“I’m getting you a mug of coffee and don’t you damn-well argue with me.”

Her words brooked no refusal and he forced a unconvincing smile to his lips but couldn’t make it reach his devastated eyes. He nodded, unable to speak and she rose and moved away to the bar.

 

Chapter ends

 

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, please let me know if you have the time. 


	2. Chapter two - Something I Need To Tell You

Care to dance?

Chapter Two - Something I Need To Tell You

 

He’d laid his head on his arm at some point, on the table’s worn but clean surface as tiredness had overwhelmed him and now, as the aroma of hot coffee roused him back to wakefulness, he had no idea how long he’d drowsed. It might have been minutes or, in the state he was, it could have been hours. 

He lifted his aching head prizing his reddened eyes open, game face somewhat back in place, looking to say thank you to the bartender, not just for the coffee she’d promised but for listening to him ramble. But when he found focus he was surprised that it was not her who stood before him. 

Familiar blue eyes of remarkable clarity met his pale green ones and Dean started violently at the sight of Castiel, angel of the Lord, trench-coated as usual with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. 

“May I sit with you?”

The angel spoke quietly. He could see his friend was exhausted, not just physically but mentally too and he had no wish to add to his palpable distress. However, he was determined that they speak. He had prevaricated for long enough and tonight they would talk, whether Dean wanted to or not. 

Dean hesitated, wondering if he told Cas just to go away and leave him be would the angel comply? He took in the look of purpose on the angel’s face, the determination in the tight line of his lips (such beautiful lips) and realized that an easy get-out was not on the cards. He sighed in soulful quiescence and nodded, glancing nervously toward the bar but there were no allies to be found as Cas carefully placed the steaming mugs on the table and slipped gracefully onto the old leather seating of the booth, next to the reluctant hunter. 

Dean reached for one of the mugs and sipped carefully at the hot coffee. It was rich and dark and tasted good but even so did nothing to lessen the dryness of his mouth. He took another gulp burning his tongue on the scalding liquid. 

“Ouch!”

He hissed and Cas raised an eyebrow as Dean looked away, mumbling in explanation.

“Hot!”

The angel nodded his understanding but said nothing and cold as he was Dean sweated in the oppressive silence.

He lowered the cup from his lips and held it against his palms, savoring the warmth and appreciating it as a welcome distraction for his hands at the same time. 

He was conscious that Castiel was watching him intently over the rim of his own mug, waiting for him to resume the eye contact Dean had fled, but the hunter dare not re-engage with his friend, afraid of what his eyes might disclose about his recent personal, painful revelations. 

At the counter, the bartender watched the booth with interest from her discrete distance, hoping with all her heart that these strange, damaged beings she had come, in the short time she had known them, to care for desperately would get their damned act in gear. 

“The coffee is good.”

Cas observed neutrally and the nervous man’s eyes flicked briefly to the angel’s, only to find the ancient, unfathomable, and beautiful blue gaze set his hands to trembling slightly before he found focus on the bridge of Cas’s nose. 

“Umm...”

Dean mumbled again, articulate conversation having abandoned him. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected to see Cas so soon after finally admitting to himself that despite all his good sense he loved this man...no, being...oh hell no, goddamn angel! He lowered the mug and rubbed absently at the bandage on his hand. 

“Are you in pain, Dean?”

‘Huh?”

Dean cringed at how dumb he sounded but the question had blind-sided him so he risked the divinely cool fire of the angel’s blue eyes. Cas shook his head patiently and reached over taking Dean’s injured hand in his own.

“Is your hand hurting you? You were rubbing it like it was giving you pain. ”

The angel’s concern was real but the pressure of his cool fingers lit fires in the hunter’s heart and he felt the lead-footed butterflies resume their terpsichorean torment in his gut. 

“No...”

Castiel’s eyebrow rose fractionally as his grip tightened on the newly sutured wound and Dean felt compelled to tell the truth, about his hand anyway, if about not a goddamned thing else.

“Well, yeah, a bit, I guess.”

He answered lamely, unsure if he wanted Cas to release his hand or hold onto it forever.   
The angel ran his thumb softly over the back of Dean’s hand, rubbing small circles that sent shivers down the hunter’s spine.

“Maybe I should check the stitches...”

Cas mused.

“Or maybe I didn’t clean it adequately and you have an infection. Do you have a fever?”

The angel gently lowered Dean’s hand and moved to touch the hunter’s brow.

“You are a little flushed.”

Dean jerked nervously away from the encroaching fingers, unwilling to let the angel feel the heat there and deduce that his face was flushed, not by a potential infection-induced fever but simply by Cas’s proximity. 

“Cas, what are you doing here? You left hours ago, with Sam, to go back to the motel room so why did you come back?”

The hunter’s voice had regained some of it’s more usual tone, even perhaps hinted a bit at his annoyance at the situation he found himself in.

Cas smiled and Dean allowed himself a moment to bath in the sweetness of that smile. 

“I came back because there is something I need to tell you, Dean.”

Despite himself, Dean’s lip twitched in amusement at the earnest tone of the angel’s statement,

“And it couldn’t wait till I got back to the motel?”

Dean finished his coffee and placed the mug next to Cas’s. 

“I didn’t know how long you would be, you seemed reluctant to accompany Sam and I and I needed to tell you something that I think is of great importance...”

Cas stopped, frowning, struggling for words and Dean’s interest peaked, worried the angel had something bad to tell him. His thoughts rushed straight away to his brother.

“Is Sam okay?”

Panic tinged the hunter’s voice and the angel answered quickly, angry with himself that his clumsiness had caused distress. 

“Yes, Sam’s fine, Dean. You have no cause to worry. He was sleeping deeply and snoring just a little irritatingly when I left him at the motel.”

Dean laughed, relieved and amused that an angel of the Lord would be annoyed by his baby brother’s nightly snortings. 

“He does make quiet a noise doesn’t he?” 

Cas smiled.

“Yes, he does.”

The angel watched as Dean went to continue the conversation about Sam and wondered whether to be polite and let Dean lead their discussion, but something inside him told him that the vacillating hunter was cleverly sidetracking him. 

“But I didn’t come back to talk about Sam.”

Dean’s laughter faded and his face blanched, tension forming little lines at the corners of his eyes. He thought for a moment of pleading exhaustion and denying the angel his voice but the look on Cas’s face stopped him. 

The angel looked...what was the right word? Needy, yeah, Cas looked needy. Like whatever he wanted to say was eating away at him, making him nervous and Dean found he wanted nothing but to relieve that distress. Whatever the outcome of what he said.

“Okay. Go ahead, I’m listening, say what you need to say.”

Dean didn’t realize he was doing it but across room the bartender watched from her unobtrusive viewpoint as the hunter sucked in a shaky breath and held it.

Cas looked at the face he knew best of all of the his Father’s children and gathered his strength, having no idea of how this man would react to what he was about to say. 

“What I needed to tell you, Dean Winchester, is that...”

He paused, as the hunter’s leaden butterflies jumped ship and kicked at his own innards. He licked his dry lips and focussed on the velvet green that had become his favorite colour on Earth.

“...is that...I love you.”

The words, simple and sweet as they were, hammered into Dean like a scud missile and he felt the air crushed out of his lungs. Had he really heard what he thought he had? He so wanted it to be true but his fucked up life had taught him such ingrained lessons about not relying on others. Could this really be true? He gripped the table before him, realizing the room was spinning a little before his eyes. 

“Breathe...Dean, breathe!”

Cas’s worried voice cut through the hypoxia that was grasping at the hunter’s brain and he released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, hiccuping noisily as he stared at the nervously looking angel.

“Are you okay?”

Cas rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder, the shoulder that he had gripped to raise Dean from perdition and the scar burned with a fiery intensity under his touch. Yet it was nothing to the fire in Dean’s heart. Dean pulled in another desperate breath.

“S...say...it...gain...”

The angel lifted his hand from the hunter’s shoulder and placed it, with infinite gentleness against his bruised cheek. 

“I love you, Dean. I said I love you.”

The angel’s face was lit with a beatific beauty and Dean gasped as the meaning of the divine being’s words burned into his heart. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing but small hitching breathes found their way out. 

Cas moved his hand and softly ran the pad of his thumb across the hunter’s trembling lip, feeling the warm wetness of the tip of Dean’s tongue as it followed the searching digit. He smiled, scootching closer as his hand tracked down Dean’s neck to press warmly on his chest directly over his pounding heart. 

“Are you alright?”

The angel’s voice tremored a little, his eyes betraying his continuing nervousness and Dean smiled at the pleasure that tremor gave him. 

“Y...Yeah.”

Dean finally found his words.

“Are you sure?”

A life time of disbelief that he was worthy of real love crowded his face as Cas gazed into his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I think.”

The angel moved closer as he spoke, so they were hip to hip on the seat and his arm snaked around Dean’s waist pulling him even closer.

“You sure you’re sure?”

Dean was still breathless and the words rushed out, all of a tumble as he stared in disbelief at Castiel.

“I have known this for a long time, Dean. I have thought about it and tortured myself with all the reason that you will not feel the same as I but it has come to the point where if I did not tell you, whatever your response might be, I would regret it forever.”

Dean shook his head, stunned that this heavenly creature would even consider he would deny the love he offered. 

“So, what do you think? Is there any way? Could we...be together, Dean?”

Dean felt a tear run from his eye and he moved his hand to his cheek only to find Cas’s soft thumb brush it away before he got there. He settled for taking the angel’s hand in his.

“Yes...Yes, we could.” 

His voice was hoarse with emotion and he moved their intertwined hands to Cas’s chest, over his heart, mirroring the angel’s earlier touch.

“I love you too, Cas.”

The angel smiled then, a smile that made the hunter’s legs tremble even though he was seated and Dean twisted in, moving so close that he could feel Cas’s raspy breath against his lips.

He looked into the blue eyes he adored and saw desire there, desire that he knew was mirrored in his own paler gaze. He parted his full lips and ghosted them gently against the angel’s, becoming firmer, more insistent as the angel’s tongue found his. 

Across the room, the bartender silently lifted her car keys from the hook and dimming the lights, slipped from the room, her heart so full she could not keep from smiling. 

Chapter ends.


	3. - Are you in love with my brother?

Care to Dance?

Chapter Three - Are you in love with my brother? 

 

“Why tonight, Cas? What made you speak out now?”

Dean’s question was still laced with self-doubt even though his lips burned from the angel’s touch and his enduring insecurity touched Cas’s heart.

“I have known for a long time, Dean but I am not practised in these matters.”

He smiled disarmingly and the hunter felt his heart surge against his chest. 

“No. I guess not.”

Dean rested his hand on the table next to Cas’s, brushing his little finger against the angel’s.

“So I...I took advise on how to...”

Cas’s face creased in concentration as he searched for the correct words.

“On how to woo you.”

Dean laughed then, a short, embarrased bark of amusement.

“Woo me?”

Castiel nodded his face a mixture of confusion and delight at Dean’s amusement.

“Is that not the correct term? When humans wish to conjugate is it not corect for them to woo each other?”

“No...I mean yes...sure it is, Cas...”

Dean blustered, smiling to cover his embarassment at the concept of being courted.

“So why do you find it amusing?”

Cas’s face was adorably conflicted, his deep blue eyes steady on Dean’s, seeking an answer.

“I’m not laughing at you, Cas. It’s just...well no one has ever...wooed me!”

The angel’s face relaxed and he nodded knowingly.

“That’s what Sam said when I told him my plans for tonight. He too seemed to find the concept amusing. You know you are very alike sometimes.”

The angel observed covering Dean’s hand as he spoke, feeling the hunter’s start of horror judder through him.

“Sam said? You asked Sam for advise about w...wooing me?“

Dean’s voice was a dry mouthed squeak, his eyes wide as he stared at the being next to him.

“Unhuh.”

Cas affirmed smiling happily. 

“I am aware that Sam is the person who knows you best of all, Dean, so if anyone could help me understand how to win your heart it was him.”

Dean could not believe what he was hearing and he listened to his own slightly erratic breathing as he played it out in his head. He groaned, feeling slightly sick as he fantacised about their conversation.

“Are you quite well, Dean? Your face is pale.”

Cas placed his arm around the hunter’s shoulder, gently pulling Dean toward him, steadying him.

“What...d’you...say to him?”

It came out all in a rush, anxiety about his brother’s reaction making his head spin. The angel stroked Dean’s upper arm reassuringly as he replied.

“I asked Sam if he would help me with a conundrum I had.”

Dean nodded quizically, his eyes on the angel’s.

“And he affirmed that he would be happy to.”

Dean huffed breathlessly, listeneing but pleasantly distracted by the touch of the angel’s hand on his shoulder. 

“And?”

“Sam asked what the conumdrum was but before I could answer he stopped me and asked was it you? Were you my conumdrum?”

Dean’s eyes were wide enough to fall out their sockets and Cas paused seeing his distress.

“Breathe, Dean.”

He smiled, sucking in a demonstration mouthful of air and Dean shakily followed suit managing to calm his hyperventilation a little as Cas continued.

“I didn’t have to answer him. Sam just said ‘Are you in love with my brother?’”

Dean’s heart flip-flopped in his chest at both the sentiment and the thought that Sam had asked that of Cas. 

“He knew?”

The angel nodded, his smile wide and happy. 

“Yes, Dean, he seemed more than completely aware of my desire for you.”

The word desire sent shivers through the hunter and, under the table, he placed his hand tentatively on Cas’s thigh. 

“Is he...is Sam...”

Dean paused, too afraid to continue he dropped his eyes to the table top.

“Is Sam okay with it?”

Cas’s long fingers cupped Dean’s chin, raising his face to meet his own. 

“Is Sam okay with us loving each other?”

The angel’s palm grazed the stubble on Dean’s chin and Dean tipped his head, dragging his cheek against the warm skin.

“He said it was high time I told you. That he was fed up of watching you...what was the phrase he used?Ah yes...fed up of watching you ‘moon around’ after me.”

Cas’s deadpan delivery made Dean laugh.

“Moon around? Me?”

Cas smiled, the pad of his thumb teasing the corner of Dean’s mouth. 

“Well, you do have a tendancy to stare at me sometimes, when you think I’m not looking.”

Dean shook his head, just powerfully enough to dislodge the angel’s caress.

“I do not!”

He half-heartedly denighed the accusation, something akin to a pout on his full lips only to have it disolve into a smile again when Cas said meaningfully.

“I like that you do.”

Cas’s smile was shy and Dean unknowingly tightened his hand against the angle’s leg.   
They held their position for a few seconds, each drinking in the want in each other’s gaze, before Dean spoke. 

“What else did you and my baby brother discuss about me then?”

“Being that I am unfamiliar with many human customs, Sam filled me in on what lovers do to please each other.”

Dean groaned, a healthy blush creeping up his throat at the angel’s words. 

“Oh god, take me now!”

Dean rolled his eyes, but the angel carried on oblivious. 

“For example...”

Dean’s hand flew to Cas’s mouth and he shushed him with a determined finger to the lips.

“No! Too much detail, dude! This is way too embarassing!”

“Sam did not seem embarassed, Dean.”

The angel smiled, his hand moving to the hunter’s neck.

“You’re blushing.”

His finger’s drifting down to inch under the collar of Dean’s t-shirt.

“Are you surprised?”

Dean could hear the hitch in his breath as he spoke and could feel the tightness in his belly at Cas’s touch but the angel’s questing fingers didn’t stop. In fact the pressure increased as his hand slid up, catching in Dean’s hair, pulling him in so their faces were almost touching. 

“Come...”

Cas rose and Dean found himself suddenly and forcefully pulled to his feet.

“What are you doing?”

He went to pull nervously away from the angel, unused to Cas being so dominant but the grip on his hand tightened and he was drawn away from the booths onto the small wooden floor at the centre of the bar. 

“Cas?”

The angel turned to face him still holding his hand, the angel’s thumb sweeping sensually against his inflammed skin. 

“Sam told me that when humans are in love this is a custom that they enjoy...”

The angel’s blue eyes held Dean immobile as he stared in confusion.

“What custom?”

Smiling Cas clicked the fingers of his other hand and from the direction of the bar soft music filled the empty room.

“Dean Winchester. Would you care to dance with me?”

He stood, rooted to the spot, his autonomic ‘i don’t dance’ response on his lips while his heart was screaming at him to take that one step toward. To take a risk with the one person he wanted with all his heart yet terror held him back, terror that he would fuck up something so beautiful, that he didn’t deserve any of this. 

Cas saw Dean’s indecision, saw his perennial sense of unworthiness blanche his face and he smiled, a smile full of love, approval and desire for the reeling man. 

It was all Dean needed, he leaned needily toward Cas, the momentum pulling his feet from the ground, propelling him into his angel’s loving embrace. 

Story Ends 

I hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a message if you have time. Thanks for reading.


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